The Vatican Rag
by The Flying Rats
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale decide to go on vacation. Tibetan cults ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Like Humans Do**

AN: We would like you all to know that we did, in fact, sit down and plan out this entire story. THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT MAY COLLAPSE.

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to a lot of people, none of which are named Krissy or Julie.

--

"Oi!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said mildly, "I do have a name. And it is not 'oi', whatever you may think."

Crowley made a face at the angel. "But 'oi' is so much easier to say!"

It had been a week since the world had not ended, a week of (for Crowley and Aziraphale, at least) waiting around expecting people to jump out at you and demand that you get back to work. Except less with the jumping out bit and more sort of with an summoning of darkness or a brilliant flash of light or what have you. The constant expectation of certain doom was starting to take its toll on Crowley's nerves, causing him to say things like "oi" and "shakalabbits". Which was never healthy.

Aziraphale eyed Crowley with concern. "Do sit down, dear, you look quite pale. Would you like a cup of tea?" Tea was usually Aziraphale's solution to everything, including internal bleeding and the flu.

"No tea! I'm full of tea! You've been feeding me tea five times a day for a week!"

"It's good for you."

"So is spinach, but I don't see you drinking that all the time!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Crowley sat down.

"Now," said Aziraphale, pushing a cup of tea at him, "I've been thinking."

"Oh, good. Marvelous. I'm very proud, I'm sure."

"Hush. The past couple of weeks have been very stressful for us both, and I was thinking that maybe we should take a vacation. Rest up for a little while."

"Nghk." Crowley grunted noncommittally.

"Somewhere warm."

"I'm plenty warm."

Aziraphale gave the demon a Look, the sort of Look that was usually reserved for sinners and people the angel found annoying.

Crowley sighed. "Well, why don't we just go traipsing off to Tibet then?"

Aziraphale beamed. It was a truly terrifying sight.

"Oh, no," Crowley moaned, burying his face in his hands.

--

i.e., Crowley.

--

"Do stop sulking, Crowley, it is very unbecoming."

"But why do you insist on taking a plane?"

Aziraphale started folding his underwear. "I thought agreed that we would do this the human way."

"You agreed, yes. I don't recall that you gave me a chance to say anything about it." The conversation had gone something like this: "Crowley, wouldn't it be marvelous if we took a vacation from our powers too? Did everything the human way?" and then Crowley had made a noise like "flkdjf!" because he was incredibly drunk and thought the angel was talking about biscuits and where to get them.

He had later realized his mistake, but by then it was too late. The angel had even insisted on paying for the airplane tickets.

"Stop looking at me like that and pack." said Aziraphale, who was now rolling up his socks into neat little balls. A bag appeared in front of Crowley, already fully packed. The angel frowned at it disapprovingly.

"You pack your way, I'll do it my way."

"Hmph."

Crowley gave him a satisfied little smile. He could at least have something his way on this trip of Aziraphale's.

Then Aziraphale calmly picked up a candle and lit Crowley's bag on fire.

"My goodness gracious me, what have I done?" he said, and then went back to packing. Crowley yelped and tried to douse the flames, but for some reason they refused to go out. They simply blazed on cheerfully, burning Crowley's bag to a crisp while not touching anything else in the room. Such as the floor.

"Lucky for you I have an extra bag!" said Aziraphale, shoving a hideous green and yellow tartan suitcase into Crowley's arms. "There you go."

Crowley almost dropped it, but decided not to. You never knew what the angel might decide to light on fire next.

--


	2. Leaving on a Jet Plane

**Chapter Two: Leaving on a Jet Plane**

AN: We would like to apologize for all the airline related bits because honestly, I have not been on an airplane since I was ten and Julie is possibly the least helpful person ever. So if there're any mistakes, you can totally blame it on her! thumbs up!

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to a lot of people, none of who are named Krissy or Julie.

--

"Isn't this wonderful?" Aziraphale said without any hint of sarcasm whatever. He even had the nerve to look delighted at the humans streaming past them, much like an eccentric aunt doting upon her nieces and nephews (the strange thing was that this description fit Aziraphale rather well). Crowley wondered idly what would happen if he killed the angel and danced on his mutilated remains. Probably nothing good, he decided as he grumbled a reply.

"What did you say?"

"Where do we go now?"

"The nice young man at the counter said we're in terminal 6G."

"Oh. And you know where that is, do you?"

Aziraphale opened his mouth and made a curious wiggling motion. It made him look remarkably like a fish, or possibly like he had just dislocated his jaw.

Crowley sighed. "Let's just go this way. How hard can it be to find terminal 6G?"

This was sort of a big mistake. They spent two hours wandering around the airport, and when they finally found 6G, they had already missed the plane.

If Aziraphale were the violent sort and not an angel, he probably would have thumped Crowley solidly over the head. As it was, he only sighed heavily and said, "Oh dear." Crowley had no such angelic restraint, and very seriously considered burning the airport to the ground, but decided not to on the grounds that Aziraphale wouldn't like it. Aziraphale patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "It's all right. We'll just get another plane."

"Can we get back to the place where we got the first one?"

The angel brightened at Crowley's apparent enthusiasm, which had been notably lacking up until that moment. Crowley stared at him for a few seconds, then took off in the direction he thought the ticket counters were. Aziraphale made a noise of delight that sounded mostly as if he had just been stepped on and clapped his hands together. "Oh, this is so exciting!" Crowley grunted noncommittally, and kept walking.

The airport was very large.

They had discovered this in the process of walking around in it for two hours looking for their gate and now they were re-discovering it. Aziraphale found that the experience wasn't any more enjoyable the second time around. It took another hour to find their way back to the ticket counters. The line was huge. Mind-bogglingly large. Words alone could not describe the length of the line, and even if they could no one would care all that much in the first place. Aziraphale pulled knitting needles from nowhere and started working on what looked like a dead snakeskin.

"What is that?" Crowley asked him, looking pained.

"It's a pair of legwarmers." Aziraphale replied happily. "Apparently they're all the rage."

"..." Was Crowley's only reply to this.

"Would you like some?"

"NO!" Crowley yelped before he could get his survival instincts under control. "Er. That is... I wouldn't want to trouble you with something like that..."

"Oh, it would be any trouble at all! I'll just need to buy some more yarn and---"

"Look! A distraction!"

Aziraphale turned.

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. Now if that was only enough to make the angel forget about the legwarmers...

"I don't see anything, Crowley." He pressed his hand against Crowley's forehead.

"Perhaps you're getting a fever! Oh dear, and right before our trip."

"I'm fi--" Crowley paused. "Actually, I do feel rather off... Maybe I should just stay home and get some rest."

Aziraphale laughed, and then leaned in and whispered in what he obviously thought was a quiet voice, "My dear, you can't get sick. But we've got to keep up the pretense. Musn't let the you-know-whats think we're odd."

Crowley sighed as several of the people near them in the line gave Aziraphale odd looks. "Oh. Right. Silly me."

The angel beamed. "Now, what color would you like your legwarmers to be? I can even make them striped, if you'd like."

Desperately, Crowley tried another distraction. "I think that line over there is shorter than this one."

"No, it's not."

"Are you sure? Look, the last person in that one is a lot closer to the counter than the last person in this one."

"Crowley, I know the line is long, but you have to be patient."

"We could be there by now, you know."

"We already discussed this."

"We could still change our minds."

"But we won't."

"It would be a lot easier."

Aziraphale smiled again, the type of smile that said "Ho ho, you sillyface! Silly sillyface. Hee hee."

Crowley shut up. There was no arguing with the angel when he put on that smile.

_Clacky clackity clack!_ Went the angel's needles. Crowley wished he had a plant to threaten.

The line moved forward inch by agonizingly slow inch.

_Clack clack, clackity clackity clack_. Aziraphale started to sing a little knitting song that went something like, "Knit one purl two, I am here and so are you! Knitting knitting, oh so fun, fun fun in the sun! I am knitting Crowley some legwarmers--Oh dear, what rhymes with legwarmers?"

Crowley began to plan out exactly what he would say to his plants when he got back to keep from killing anything. Or anyone.

"Do you think 'horrors' rhymes with legwarmers?"

"No."

"Hmmmn."

Another inch forward.

"How about...'performers?'"

"I suppose..."

Two inches this time.

"I hate to think what kind of condition my plants are going to be in after this."

"What on earth does that have to do with anything?"

"We wouldn't be away so long if you'd let us go the easy way."

"Hello!" chirruped the girl behind the counter.

"Hi, we need tickets."

"All right. How many are in your party?" she asked, looking at them.

"...Two." Crowley refrained from turning her into something unpleasant with great difficulty.

"And where is your destination?"

"Tibet."

"Where in Tibet, sir?"

"Er..." Crowley searched his memory for a location.

Aziraphale sneezed.

"Nagchu?" The girl asked. "I'll see what's available."

"Bless me!" said Azirphale.

Crowley sighed. At least the angel had managed to get him out of thinking of a location.

"There is a flight to Nangchu later this afternoon," said the girl in the perky voice of airline workers everywhere. Aziraphale was aware of the fact that he should probably support this in the spirit of politeness and so on and so forth, but found that it was grating on his nerves.

Crowley stared at the girl. "So does that mean we have tickets for it now?"

She smiled. "How many are in your party, sir?"

"Two." Crowley told her again, through gritted teeth.

"All right. Round trip or one way?"

"Round trip."

"That'll be 1360 pounds. Credit or debit?"

"Credit."

Aziraphale was glad that Crowley, at least, knew what the lady was talking about. Funny little plastic squares. How could they pay for anything? Crowley handed one to the lady.

"You're all set! Your flight departs at gate 6G."

"Thank you." Crowley grated, taking the boarding passes she was offering, and stalking off.

"Oh!" the lady said suddenly, turning to Aziraphale. "It leaves in ten minutes. You might want to hurry."

Crowley stopped dead.

"Let's go, dear," said Aziraphale, linking his arm through Crowley's and dragging him away before things started getting bad. Crowley was a demon, but he was also very weak vs. Aziraphale, which the angel knew but pretended he didn't because he didn't think Crowley's ego would be able to take the crushing blow.

"Do you even remember how to get back to 6G?" Crowley hissed at the demon. "And do it in ten minutes?"

"Of course. You're the one with the horrible sense of direction, you know."

Crowley did not--quite--scream at this comment. Or kill anyone.

Aziraphale frowned. "Do stop behaving like a child, Crowley. We are almost there--you can see the terminal down at the end of the hallway, look."

"You mean that place right there where all the people aren't?"

"No," said Aziraphale with exaggerated patience, "After that."

"Oh, the one where all the people are leaving?"

"Yes."

"Oh. And how long do you think it will take to get there your way?"

"Er," said Aziraphale.

"Exactly."

"What do you suggest then?

"We hitch a ride."

"On what?"

"That."

Aziraphale stared at the demon in disbelief. "Those are for the old and the sick, Crowley! We can't just take one of them!"

"Would you rather miss another flight?"

"...I am not allowing you to drive it."

"Fine, fine, let's just get it!"

Aziraphale drove much like an old woman who had to sit on three books just to see over the steering wheel and wore bifocals an inch thick. In a snowstorm.

Crowley let him for about two seconds, then concluded that if they continued at this speed they might reach the gate by, oh, next Thursday. So he decided to speed things up a bit. Aziraphale made a sound remarkably like "asdfjlkcrowleywhalfkasdjf!"

"You can stop now." The demon told him calmly, slowing the cart down from its headlong rush down the hallway.

"Nhngh!"

"Shall we board? We don't want to miss our flight."

And lo, they did. And it was good. Until they found their seats.

"I think those are ours," Aziraphale said, looking at the tickets.

The two women who glared up at him could have filled three of the tiny seats, but had somehow managed to squeeze into one each. They did not look pleased at the prospect of moving.

"Er," said the angel.

"Please take your seats sirs," A stewardess told them.

"Well, we...can't. Really. At all."

"What's the problem."

"These people are in them!"

"May I see your tickets," She said, snatching them out of his hand.

"Wha--"

"Ma'am, may I see your tickets as well?" She waited until the woman in the closer seat handed them to her. "...oh." said the airplane lady.

"Oh?" Crowley asked, "Is that a bad oh?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Aziraphale, "I'm sure it's the very nice kind of 'oh'. The kind of 'oh' that's followed by tea and correct seats." He looked in a hopeful manner at the airplane lady who shuffled back a few steps and tried to make herself smaller. Aziraphale prepared himself to take Crowley down, or at least to kick him in the shins discreetly.

"I'm... afraidyou'vebeendoublebooked"

Aziraphale threw an arm across Crowley's chest just as he made a strangled noise like 'arajfdkl!' and lunged.

The stewardess shrank back a little, then straightened up and did her very best to look down her nose at the pair. "You'll have to wait here while we find you somewhere else to sit."

"Of course we--Crowley! Put that down."

"Put what down?" Crowley attempted to hide a tire iron behind his back.

"I do not even want to know where you hid that."

"Hid?"

"Just come over here."

"You're two feet away from me."

If Aziraphale were the sort (which he was most decidedly was not) to swear at his friends, he would have definitely done so at that moment. Instead, he took Crowley's ear and twisted it.

"OWOWOWOWOWOW! What was that for?"

"Shush."

"What are you shushing me for? You're the one abusing me!"

"You are talking nonsense. Perhaps you have a fever."

Crowley looked at his tire iron, wondering whether it would be better to use it on himself or the angel.

The stewardess reappeared behind them, saving Aziraphale from an almost certain threat of pain.

"We've found you some seats, sirs. If you will follow me." She turned and headed towards the rear of the plane.

Crowley mimed hitting her with an axe and Aziraphale twisted his ear again.

This earned the angel a glare over the top of Crowley's sunglasses before he stalked off after the stewardess. She led them to two seats. This time the seats were thankfully empty. Crowley thought, as he sat down, that had they been otherwise something would have exploded.

"Look," said the angel, "we even have two extra seats."

"I don't think those are for us."

And then--she arrived.

She was large. She was Albanian. And she smelled like a fish that had been in the trash for a month.

"Er," said Aziraphale.

And then another one came up behind her.

"Vell, hallo." said one, looming in the aisle like a beached whale. A beached whale with maggots. Aziraphale was torn between politeness and horror and settled for a combination of both.

She peered down at him. "Vot is ze matter?"

"...indigestion?"

She nodded in what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic manner, and sat down.

Her companion followed suit. Crowley began to make quiet choking noises.

Then he realized that he didn't actually need to breathe. This, he decided, would be a very useful thing on this flight.

"Agkj!" commented Aziraphale.

"Still glad we're doing this the normal way?" Crowley hissed at him.

Aziraphale stopped breathing. "We're being educated," he sniffed.

"We could be educated by getting torn apart by rabid bears, too."

Aziraphale did not technically sulk. Angels do not sulk because it makes them look truly ridiculous and, if they happen to be friends with demons, it tends to get them taunted cruelly and at great length. Instead, Aziraphale's eye twitched and he slid down in his seat dejectedly. Crowley, however, felt that it was perfectly acceptable for a demon to smirk and generally act as smug as possible for the duration of the flight.

"I need some tea," said Aziraphale.

"They don't serve tea on airplanes."

Aziraphale went completely still.

"Aziraphale? Az? Halloooo?"

"Mmgh." said Aziraphale in despair. "Do they at least serve liquor?"

"They do in the first class..."

Aziraphale stared blankly into the seat in front of him. "Why hast thou forsaken me, God?" he asked.

Crowley nobly refrained from making another comment about how bad of an idea this was.

The large Albanian woman on his left patted Aziraphale's arm sympathetically. "God haz not vorsaken you," she said. "God is vatching right now."

Aziraphale moaned softly.

--

ALSO NOTE THE COMPLETE FABRICATION OF ALBANIAN ACCENTS AND/OR HYGIENE! We would like to formally apologize to any Albanians who may be reading this.


	3. Look What You've Done

**Chapter Three: Look What You've Done**

AN: WOO THIRD CHAPTER. Note the seemingly random title!

Here's an ACTUAL CONVERSATION Julie and I had about CaptainEmo's question in regards to Weird Al's "Albuquerque":

21:09 k.rhyme just in time: WOO WE GET POINTS FOR THINGS WE DIDN'T EVEN DO!

21:09 k.rhyme just in time: nonexistent allusions woo!

21:09 I wish pre calc was a person so I could stab it in the face.: no, actually it was.

21:09 I wish pre calc was a person so I could stab it in the face.: all me.

21:09 k.rhyme just in time:...news to me!

21:09 I wish pre calc was a person so I could stab it in the face.: yeah well

21:09 k.rhyme just in time: though i fail to see how this relates to you finding tibetan names.

This is how true geniuses work, people.

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to a lot of people, none of who are named Krissy or Julie.

--

A very long, tea-less time later Aziraphale and Crowley arrived. A slightly less long time later, they were finally out of the plane and standing near the carousel where masses of people were collecting their luggage and leaving. These people did not include Aziraphale and Crowley

"Hm." said Aziraphale. "There seems to be a problem here."

"A large sort of problem." the kind that Crowley usually solved by drinking. Or hitting things. Or both!

"No." said Aziraphale.

"What?" Crowley attempted affronted innocence, but it came out sounding more like a sick duck getting sat on.

"Violence is never the answer, my dear."

"Who said I was considering violence?"

Aziraphale gave him a Look.

"Well not much anyway," Crowley muttered.

"What we need is a nice cup of tea."

"And that will help us find our luggage, will it?" Crowley asked, conveniently ignoring the fact that getting drunk and hitting things would be no more useful than tea for that particular problem.

"No," said Aziraphale. "But it will make me less likely to light something on fire again."

"Oh. Right. Shall we find a tea shop?" Aziraphale sparkled. It was immensely embarrassing and disturbing and Crowley rather hoped that no one around them was watching, which, of course, they were. He made a noise of deep, deep shame. Like "ggggggggggggndfds", or something dying underneath a large rock. Aziraphale gave him another Look.

"What?" said Crowley once again, this time with feeling. Aziraphale sniffed meaningfully, though Crowley was not sure just what the meaning was. Crowley wasn't really sure where the conversation was headed, but he was fairly certain that it was going somewhere he probably wasn't fond of. Like Panama or the 14th century. "Tea!" He shouted, in an attempt to keep it from going there. "I'm sure there's some this way!"

Aziraphale perked up. "Tally ho!"

They set off through the airport, which wasn't nearly as large as the one in London, but they still managed to get themselves lost in the space of a few minutes. Needless to say, there was not a teashop to be seen, or any of their luggage. Which was not making Crowley any happier. A short person chose this exact moment to run into Crowley, knocking him over.

"AROELKSDJGHKGSLIT!" Crowley shouted at the person. Which did no good whatsoever, but it made Crowley feel a little bit better. It also made quite a lot of people stare at him.

"My dear boy," Aziraphale murmured, "Stop that at once, you look like an enormous twat."

"I'll stop when I get out of this bloody airport!"

"Shouldn't we find our luggage first?"

"Let the luggage find us. I say we leave."

"And how exactly is our luggage supposed to do that, Crowley? It's inanimate. It doesn't move."

"It does now."

Aziraphale did not say anything in a manner that implied he was contemplating doing something nasty to Crowley. Like singing. Or knitting him legwarmers.

"What?" Crowley protested. "It's not like I did anything BAD to it!"

"And what, pray tell, have you done to our luggage?"

"Turned it into sapient pearwood."

"..." said Aziraphale ominously.

"And what's wrong with that?" Crowley demanded.

"EVERYTHING!"

"Such as?"

Aziraphale's hands made little twitching motions. Crowley smirked at him. "Shall we find somewhere to sit while we wait for our luggage to get here?"

"...as long as there is a theoretical cup of tea in this situation, I no longer care."

"Good." Crowley started down a hallway that they had inexplicably not looked in before, and shortly after they were seated in a shop, waiting for their tea to be brought out.

Aziraphale crossed his legs. He looked tired, which was unusual and highly amusing to Crowley because he was honestly that much of a prat. "And what did you have planned after we get out of here?" the demon inquired.

"Well, we have to check in to the hotel, of course."

"Do we have one in mind?"

A waitress stopped by their table and set down two cups of tea--Aziraphale wrinkled his nose at the tea bags, because he was a bit of a tea snob--and he gave Crowley a pointed look. "If by 'have one in mind' you mean that we already have reservations at one, then yes."

"I see. And do we have a way to get there?"

"You're the one who drives."

"You weren't saying that in the other airport."

Aziraphale drank some tea at Crowley instead of replying. Crowley made a face at him.

"Besides, I thought you would want to pick out the car."

Crowley was saved from having to answer that by some loud screams moving down the hallway towards them.

"No," said Aziraphale in horror.

"Yes," Crowley told him in a decidedly smug way.

Because barreling down the hallway like a demon out of hell, pardon the expression, was their luggage. And it was leaving a trail of havoc in its wake. The two pieces of perfectly ordinary baggage had been transformed into two wooden trunks and sprouted countless little legs, and were running towards their owners, biting or trampling everyone who got in their way.

"Crowley," Aziraphale hissed. "Someone is going to notice!"

"Really? You think so?"

Aziraphale drank some tea at him in pure spiteful rage. Crowley smirked again.

Someone in the background made a noise like _AAAAAAAJdslfkjdlkfs,a! _"Still," Crowley commented, "Much fun as this is, I suppose we don't want it connected to us."

"Perhaps not." Abruptly, the screaming stopped. Aziraphale resisted the urge to throw his teabag at Crowley because that would be childish and something that Crowley would do to him, not the other way around. Instead he kicked him in the shin underneath the table.

"What was that for?" Crowley yelped. "I turned it back, didn't I?"

"I don't know what you're talking about--oh look Crowley, our luggage! Why don't you go fetch it?"

"I'll let you do that, angel. I should go see about that car you didn't rent for us."

And Crowley did, except there was only one small problem: there were no cars available.

"What?" said Aziraphale blankly.

"There are none here." Crowley explained again.

"Er."

"Of course, we could take a taxi to the hotel, but you assured me that you had everything taken care of, so I don't have much cash."

Aziraphale was saved from having to make an intelligent reply when they were interrupted by a commotion over to their left. "Someone's stolen my wallet!" A person screamed, pointing towards a figure running towards the exit. Aziraphale frowned in a way that suggested he was about to do something about this when Crowley poked him in the forehead.

"We're not getting involved."

"Why not?"

"We don't want to draw attention to ourselves! And there's no way we could accomplish anything if we did it the way mortals do!"

"Where there's a will, there's a way!"

"Oh, no." Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand and started running towards the thief, dragging him along behind. "No!" Crowley protested ineffectually. "I refuse! I can't be caught helping people!"

"We're on vacation, it's not like it matters." Aziraphale replied, dodging people lugging suitcases.

"But--" Crowley started again, but realized it was pointless and gave up

"Stop, you!" Aziraphale yelled, which did absolutely nothing at all. Crowley longed to point this out but had decided that the quickest way to end this was to catch the thief. Instead, he concentrated on running. Which, come to think of it, also seemed rather pointless, since he didn't know what they were supposed to do if they caught him.

Maybe Aziraphale would let him punch the guy! That would be fun. Or if he could turn him into something. Like a slug!

Crowley ran faster.

They chased the thief out of the airport and into a parking lot, where quite a lot of people gave them funny looks. But the man was beginning to slow down, for Crowley and Aziraphale had a natural advantage over him--they didn't have to breathe. Or run around cars, which was probably what was getting them the looks. Crowley wondered vaguely what had happened to not attracting attention.

The man chose this moment to look back and simultaneously run into a concrete wall.

"Can I punch him?" Crowley asked as he and Aziraphale skidded to a halt in classic cartoon style.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," said the angel absentmindedly, picking up the purse the man had dashed off with.

"That's no reason. What do we do with that?"

"Give it back, of course."

"Where's the person he stole it from?"

"...er."

"Yes?"

"Back there?" Aziraphale waved feebly in the direction of the airport.

"I see." Crowley said in a tone of voice that suggested that he was not about to go back there and look. Luckily for him, a girl ran out yelling about her purse at that exact moment.

"Well, there you go," said Aziraphale and handed the purse to Crowley. He looked at it blankly. The girl ran up to him and stopped short, glaring at him angrily. Crowley transferred his blank look to her, but felt that it was somewhat lacking in effectiveness, as it was hidden behind his sunglasses.

"My purse! You...brute!"

"What?" The girl tried to grab her purse and unthinkingly, Crowley moved it out of her reach. "Give it back! I'll call the police!"

Aziraphale sighed mournfully and gave Crowley a disapproving look while simultaneously grabbing the purse from the demon. "Here you are, miss." The girl snatched her purse back with a sniff, and a glare for Crowley.

"Hey!"

Glare, went the girl.

Crowley felt this was largely unfair. There didn't seem to be anything he could do about it, though.

"Thank you," said the girl to Aziraphale.

"What? Hey!"

Aziraphale patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. Crowley resisted the urge to smack him. "I know he may look like a ruffian, but Crowley is really quite nice. He's the one who saved your purse from that man." Aziraphale indicated the unconscious lump behind them. The girl looked somewhat mollified, but Crowley did not trust this and took the opportunity to ask the angel if he didn't think they ought to be off now. "Are you going to be all right, miss?" was how Aziraphale chose to reply to this.

"I suppose so..."

"Maybe we should escort you outside."

"We are outside." Crowley pointed out through gritted teeth.

"Maybe we should escort you home."

"No, that's quite alright. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure, Miss--I am very sorry, what is your name?" Aziraphale was a stickler for manners. This, like many others, was a trait that Crowley found immensely annoying.

"Gulu."

"Well, Miss Gulu, I'm Mr. Fell and this is my associate, Crowley."

"Thank you Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley, for the return of my purse, but I'm afraid I really do have to be going now. Good day to you." The girl turned abruptly and walked off.

"She was nice, wasn't she?" said Aziraphale happily. Crowley stared at him. "Well, she was!" Aziraphale said defensively, and then paused. "...we still don't have our luggage."

"That's because you insisted on running off and leaving it inside."

Aziraphale frowned. "But it wasn't even inside, dear."

"Yes. It was. You picked it up."

"...I had hoped I was imaging that part." Crowley threw a rock at him. Aziraphale made an undignified squawking noise.

"Can we go now?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. Let's go collect the luggage." They looked somewhat halfheartedly around the parking lot, but the luggage was nowhere in sight. Crowley swore and a nearby car started to beep loudly.

"Now, dear."

Crowley blinked and the car went silent.

"That's better."

"So what're we doing now?"

"Why, we track down the luggage, of course!" Aziraphale replied, clapping his hands excitedly.

"Or...I could just make it come here."

Aziraphale looked pained. "Again?"

Crowley smiled. It was not a very nice smile. Or a very sane one.

"Fine. Fine! Have it your way!"

Crowley waved his hand. They waited for a minute. There were screams in the distance.

A car alarm started to go off but was quickly silenced, followed by a large crunching noise.

Another minute passed.

Something that might or might not have once been a car engine went flying past Crowley's head and lay smoldering on the concrete. There were several loud crashing noises, followed by a piercing shriek.

"I think it found us," said Crowley happily.

"Oh, good." Aziraphale replied weakly.

The luggage bounded up to them! Like a puppy! A murderous puppy, but a happy one nonetheless. Aziraphale waved his hand at it and it turned back into ordinary suitcases;

Crowley smiled fondly, and then turned to Aziraphale. "So what comes after the luggage?"

Aziraphale wondered briefly if Crowley was being this annoying on purpose. "We should probably check in at the hotel."

"And we were getting there how...?"

"By car? Unless you'd prefer to walk."

"And what car would that be?"

The angel sighed. "Walking it is, then."

"Then again, that looks like a nice car, let's take that one!"

"What--Crowley--we can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's _wrong_."

"Why? No one's using it!"

Aziraphale made an anguished face. "But--it's not the Bentley!"

Crowley shrugged. "It's black, it's shiny, and it's not like I won't have the Bentley when we get back."

More anguished face making.

"That means we can take it, right?" Crowley got into the car, not waiting for an answer.

Aziraphale sighed but got in anyway.

"Now," Crowley said, not quite smugly as he pointed at the ignition, causing the car to start. "Which way to the hotel?"

"I don't know."

"Fine then. We can go this way."

"Delightful," Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley only grinned, then slammed the acceleration. "Agjk!" said Aziraphale in surprise.

"Whatever is the matter?"

The angel made a small pitiable noise like "geh".

--

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY. JULIE IS A MEAN PERSON. FEEL FREE TO COMMENT ON THIS.


	4. Why Does This Always Happen to Me

**Chapter Four: Why Does This Always Happen to Me**

AN: Let's play a game. It's called "Spot the places in this chapter where Krissy/Julie got desperate and tried to make the other person explain things!"

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to a lot of people, none of who are named Krissy or Julie.

--

Crowley looked around the little room that was to be his home for the next however many days, and sighed. He had finally found the Xiongbala Hotel after nearly an hour of driving, and it had turned out to be somewhat less than he had hoped. That's what you got when you let an angel choose the hotel, he supposed.

"What are you sighing about?"

"Couldn't you have found something bigger? With a Jacuzzi?"

Aziraphale stared at him blankly. "What on earth would we have done with a Jacuzzi?"

"That's not the point! The point is that a hotel room should have it! And room service! And masses of people waiting to serve our every whim!"

Aziraphale did not dignify this with a response.

Crowley glared at him for a few seconds, and then flopped down on one of the beds. It was lumpy.

"Oh come now, my dear," Aziraphale said, frowning and crossing his arms, "it is not all that bad."

Crowley snorted.

"If you just looked on the bright side of this, I'm sure--"

"Bright side? Bright side of being stuck in a little motel in sneezetown? Where's the brightness in that? Besides, I happen to like the dark."

"You would."

"So what's next in your brilliant plan to explore the world?"

"Tea would be nice," the angel said wistfully.

"We just had tea an hour ago."

"...but I like tea."

"Fine, tea then. We just came halfway around the world, so that we could drink tea. Never could have gotten that at home!"

Aziraphale folded some clothes at him in disdain.

Crowley made his luggage spew its contents all over the room, just to spite the angel. Aziraphale, who was certainly more mature, threw a pair of pants at Crowley's face.Crowley threw them back. And a shoe, because that was the only other thing he could reach without having to move.

Absurdly, at that moment Crowley felt a sudden pang, as if he missed someone. Except the only conceivable person he could miss was Aziraphale who was standing right in front of him looking irritated or possibly homicidal.

He considered this feeling for a moment. Who else did he even talk to on any sort of regular basis? He immediately thought of Hastur and Ligur and made an odd retching noise in the back of his throat.

Aziraphale looked at him oddly, but Crowley ignored this and continued his ponderings.

Aziraphale, who was sort of used to this by now, began to unpack things out of their suitcases, folding shirts and pants and putting them into the drawers. Or at least out of the suitcase that was not currently scattered around the room.

He draped one of Crowley's many identical black coats over Crowley's head. "Do something with this."

Crowley considered throwing it at him, but waved it into the closet instead and continued on with his pondering. The only other things he talked to were his plants, but what sort of person missed their plants? No, there had so be someone else.

He was slightly disturbed to find that he only really talked to Aziraphale, Hastur and Ligur. And occasionally Adam. Aziraphale plopped another coat on his head, followed by the pair of pants that had hit him in the face.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

Crowley made a face and Aziraphale threw a pair of socks at it. They burst into flame in midair.

"Well now. That was completely uncalled for."

"I beg to differ."

Aziraphale gave an exasperated sigh and hung up the last of his trousers. "You may sit on the bed and think or not think for as long as you wish, but I am going downstairs and finding a decent cup of tea."

"How much tea do you need?" Crowley demanded, waiting a few seconds before getting up and following the angel. Just to show that he could choose not to if he so desired.

"At least twice my body weight."

"What, every hour?"

"Possibly."

Crowley sighed and gave up. Maybe it really was the plants he was missing...

Aziraphale left.

Crowley sighed again and went after him.

The angel gave him the Evil Eye as he saw him coming. "I thought you were going to stay in the room and mope. Or think."

"I've decided I need some plants."

"What?"

"Plants. I'm going to go get myself some."

"Why?"

"I like plants."

"You mean you like torturing them."

"I never said that."

"It's blatantly obvious, Crowley."

"Well if you're going to be that way about it..."

Aziraphale was aware of the fact that as an angel, he should probably be against the senseless torture of living beings. However, he rather doubted that he would be able to distract Crowley with tea, and couldn't think of anything else to use.

"Fine, fine, go out and buy ferns or magnolias or what have you."

"Thanks ever so for your permission; I just couldn't live with myself if I bought plants without it."

"Well, then what were you bothering me about?"

"You're the one who wanted to know what I was doing," Crowley pointed out.

Aziraphale's hands made little twitchy motions.

"Problem?" Crowley asked him sweetly.

"Go away."

"I was. It's not my fault you're going the same direction."

Aziraphale realized talking did nothing and immediately stopped.

This earned him a smirk from Crowley, which he carefully ignored.

Just then!

"STOP THOSE TWO!" Someone yelled from behind them.

"Huh?" Crowley glanced toward the yell, and was greeted with the sight of several large burly men running straight at him and Aziraphale.

"Erk," he said

"Whatever is the matter, dear?" Aziraphale asked him.

Crowley was in the middle of a panic attack before he remembered he was a demon, and then was in the middle of doing something nasty to the large burly men when he realized a)that Aziraphale wouldn't let him do it, and b) that it didn't really matter anyway because it wasn't working in the first place. Crowley began to panic again. It was at this point the large burly men reached the two of them, and very shortly afterwards had them surrounded. Aziraphale blinked at them in confusion. Crowley made frantic motions that indicated that they should LEAVE preferably NOW and then was unfortunately stopped in this attempt by a large burly man clapping a hand on his shoulder. He attempted to make Aziraphale understand the necessary action of leaving by staring at him through his sunglasses intently. It didn't seem to be working.

"I beg your pardon," Aziraphale said to the large burly man directly in front of him. "But you seem to be blocking my way..."

Crowley made a long, pained noise like a duck being stepped on.

A few of the large burly men chuckled in a way that suggested that whatever they were laughing at, neither Crowley or Aziraphale was likely to find it very funny.

"Do you need something?" Aziraphale asked politely.

"You two're comin' with us." The largest and burliest of the men grunted.

"Whatever for?"

"Cuz I said you are."

Aziraphale frowned. "That's not a very good reason." He was beginning to sense that something was Very Wrong, and it was worrying him. That and the fact that Crowley was trying frantically to tell him something with his eyes, which as far as he could tell was "Buy me a pony and a cactus!" or "Your pants are on backwards" This sense was heightened when Mr. Large-and-Burly ignored his last comment, muttering "Bring'm" and starting to walk away instead of answering. Another of the men clamped Aziraphale's shoulder in a very large hand and propelled him forward, with Crowley and his captor close behind.

"Unhand me!"

This was also ignored, along with the undignified groaning squawk Crowley emitted.

"We could get out of this, you know!" He said loudly to the angel.

"What?" Aziraphale asked blankly.

"IF WE USED, OH, SOME SORT OF MAGIC," he bellowed desperately.

"Oh, _that_" Aziraphale gave him a painfully obvious conspiratorial wink. "Of course dear, why don't you work something out?"

"What're youse planning down there?" a voice rumbled above Crowley's head.

"Nkgh" Crowley responded intelligently.

"That's terribly clever," Aziraphale commented in a spiteful sort of way.

In any other situation, Crowley would have hit him. As it was, he had to be satisfied with a withering glare that was totally ignored by the angel.

"Youse are way too talkative," said one of the men, and attempted to hit them over the head with a gun that was mysteriously replaced by a daisy.

"Is he s'posed to be able t'do dat?" The man asked one of his cronies.

"Dun think so."

The man considered this for a minute. "So how'd 'ee do it then?"

"Dunno."

This seemed to exhaust their supply of conversation, and they continued in silence for a few minutes.

Crowley gave up and elbowed the man holding him in the gut and grabbed Aziraphale. "This is ridiculous!" he yelled for the benefit of no one in particular as he sprinted down the hallway. He got about five steps before running into a solid mass of muscle covered by a cheap suit that stepped out from a side hall. It looked at him in disgust. As much as a solid mass of muscle can, that is.

"Oh dear." Aziraphale commented thoughtfully.

"Do something!"

"I'm afraid I can't..."

The cheap suited man grabbed them both and lifted them off the ground. Quite a long ways off the ground.

"How about now?" Crowley wheezed.

The man knocked their heads together, and someone snickered nastily from behind them.

One of the downfalls of having a human body, Crowley discovered, was that you could actually be knocked out. He decided, as his vision faded to black, that he should probably put in a complaint about that if he ever got out of this...

--

Aziraphale woke up. He opened his eyes. He was in the back of a van. This, he thought, was probably not a good thing. Aziraphale squirmed around, trying to get his bearings and found out that Crowley was right next to him when he accidentally hit him in the head with his foot.

Crowley growled something that Aziraphale couldn't understand. Which was probably just as well. He tried to apologize but it came out mostly like "fjfdklf."

"Quiet back there!" Came a voice from the front of the van.

Crowley found the whole situation completely ridiculous. He was lying tied up on his back in a van, being yelled at by some unknown thug for protesting the fact that his best friend had kicked him in the head.

Life was unfair.

The van went over a large bump, causing him to hit his head on the floor and underscoring his point. He twitched and suddenly the ropes around his hands were gone. This was a distinct improvement. Now all he had to do was figure out why the door of the van hadn't gone with them.

It is important to note at this point that he had not done the same favor for Aziraphale. It is also important to note that Aziraphale resented this, and took the opportunity to kick Crowley in the head again.

Crowley yelped.

"HEY!" The person in front yelled. "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!"

"You'd just yell at me for using my powers again!" Crowley hissed irritably while trying to open the van doors.

"You could have used them once on both of us!" Aziraphale whispered back. "Now untie me at once."

"This is ridiculous," said Crowley. But he did it anyway

"That's better. Now get the door open."

"I'm trying!"

Aziraphale frowned at him. "Then why isn't it open yet?"

"If you're so intelligent, why don't you do it then?"

"You're the one who always likes showing off, I figured you would want to do it."

"Don't make me come back there!" someone yelled from the front.

"Can you at least do something about him?" Aziraphale asked.

"No!"

"Why not!"

"Because I'm too busy kicking this door open and jumping out of a moving van!" And indeed, Crowley was.

Aziraphale very nearly swore, but jumped out of the van instead. Straight into the path of another van.

Today was not a good day.

He rolled to the side, just barely avoiding getting run over as the second van skidded to a halt. Crowley landed next to him.

"Shit." The demon stated as the large burly men from the hotel got out of the van and started heading towards them. Crowley waved his hands and suddenly found absolutely nothing at all happening as a result. Just like with the van door.

"Az! Can you get rid of them?" He hissed.

"What?"

"DO SOMETHING!"

Aziraphale stared at him blankly, and then did a little dance. "You mean like that?"

It was at this point that the men reached the two of them, and as Crowley was staring in utter shock at the dancing angel, they were both grabbed by their already abused shoulders and shoved towards the van.

"That was pathetic!" he yelled. "I--you--arraaggggggh!"

"NO TALKING!" One of the men yelled, hitting Crowley on the head.

"Agh!" he said.

"I said to shut up!" A fist was waved in front of his face.

"Stop that," said Aziraphale.

"Make me, pussy boy."

Aziraphale frowned, finally irritated enough to break his own rule about using powers only to find that, much to his dismay, nothing happened when he waved his hand. He shook it experimentally to be sure. He was rewarded by a solid blow to the head. Aziraphale blacked out again.

When he woke for the second time, he was once more tied, and once more in a van, this time with some distinctly unfriendly looking men sitting nearby.

"Oh dear," he said, and tried to look around discreetly to see if Crowley was with him or not.

"You move again and you'll regret it." One of the men told him.

"Aha ha ha..." he replied and wondered if this was supposed to be some sort of divine test or faith or somesuch.

Someone kicked Aziraphale in the back. He hoped it was Crowley.

"Crowley? Is that you?"

"I said no talking!" Yelled a Large Burly Man. Again.

Someone sighed disgustedly.

Aziraphale knew that sigh. So the good news was that Crowley was still here. The bad news was that Crowley was here, and not somewhere where he could do some good.

He sighed unhappily. One of the men yelled at him again. Aziraphale decided that it might be prudent to shut up for a while. Crowley made a noise of suffering. There was a threatening sound from the direction of the large men. Again.

Forty-five long, threatening noise filled minutes later, the van finally cam to a stop.

The men, who Aziraphale had noted didn't seem capable of much else besides making threatening noises, expanded their horizons by blindfolding them again and taking them outside somewhere. Under the circumstances, he couldn't help but feel mildly impressed.

Aziraphale was shoved along a passage that seemed unnecessarily bumpy as well as having an inordinate number of turns. Several of which he was not aware of before running face first into a wall.

"Fngnga!" He said in surprise, to which one of the large men replied by making a threatening noise. They were very good at it.

He supposed they must get a lot of practice.

All of a sudden they stopped. The blindfold was removed. They were in a large, underground cavern of some sort and a man in a very funny dress was standing in front of them. He was also wearing large, pink hat. Crowley made an odd choking noise, and was smacked in the head as a result.

"Welcome, heathens!" He said. Very, very loudly.

"Heathens? Excuse me?" Aziraphale asked him in confusion.

The man looked haughty and waved his arms around a bit. "Yes! Heathens!"

Aziraphale didn't know quite what to say to this, so he satisfied himself with "Oh."

Crowley sniggered.

"Well I don't hear _you_ helping," Aziraphale whispered at him.

"SILENCE," bellowed the man. His words were underscored by another set of smacks on the head for Crowley and Aziraphale.

"You are here because you are HEATHENS! You are not following the law of God!"

Aziraphale stared at him incredulously. "I ENFORCE the law of God!"

"SILENCE!" The man shouted again. "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK SUCH BLASPHEMY HERE, FOUL DEMONS!" The large men made some threatening noises of agreement.

Crowley attempted to stop laughing, but only succeeded in making a noise like a demented frog.

"This isn't funny!" Aziraphale nearly whined.

The man in front of them clapped his hands sharply to get everyone's attention. "Take them away! We will prepare the Death of Ten Thousand Screams tonight and tomorrow," He paused significantly. "They DIE!"

"Oh dear."

"What?" Crowley yelped. "We do not! We refuse!"

"You cannot refuse the will of God!"

"But I'm an angel of God!" Aziraphale yelled at him.

"You are a demon! A heathen! I saw you working your arcane magic in the area of flying machines!"

"I'm an angel! He's the demon!" He gestured at Crowley, to make sure they got the idea.

"...area of flying machines?" said Crowley.

"Yes! You summoned one of your hellish minions, causing destruction and CHAOS!"

"Why don't you just say airport?" he asked. "That's what it is. An airport."

The man gave him the sort of look that implied that he was something odd and somewhat rotten that the cat had just deposited on the expensive carpet.

"Area of flying machines." He thundered. With emphasis.

"Fine. Have it your way. Now Mister Angel here wants you to let us go. He's a messenger from God."

The man turned a funny purple color and whipped something out of his robes. It was very large, and very gaudy and he seemed to think it would somehow change the way things were going.

Aziraphale peered curiously at it, wondering how it had fit in the robes when it was bigger than could conceivably exist under any piece of fabric without making a lump.

The man said something, which sounded remarkably like, "foofofofooofgh" and the thing Turned On.

"AUGH!" Crowley yelled.

Despite its appearance and despite the fact that the man was obviously a moron, the thing happened to do one important thing. Crowley and Aziraphale quickly discovered what this was. It was something they had never expected. And probably could never have imagined had they not experienced it. It was truly shocking! And amazing! Completely astounding! With one thousand elephants! OUT OF NOWHERE, a girl with a large spoon appeared! And SMACKED THE TWO OF THEM ON THE HEAD WITH IT! With a NOISE of DOOM! AND DISAPPEARED LIKE THE WIND.

The man in the pink hat looked smug. "Ha ha ha!" laughed the man. "I can see that my powerful mind-controlling mental device is working! You can not disobey me!"

"What?" Aziraphale asked him blankly.

"Silence!" said the man, and Aziraphale found that he couldn't speak. He thought vaguely that this could probably be filed under Not Good, but was then distracted as the man barked an order to follow the henchmen who had brought the pair of them in to a holding cave where they could await their horribly painful death. HORRIBLY PAINFUL

If Aziraphale could have talked, he would have sworn.

--

Note the random Megami reference. Har har. We're so awesome.


	5. Some Kind of Shuffle

**Chapter Five: Some Kind of Shuffle**

AN: COMPELETLY UNEDITED, UNBETA'D AND GENERALLY VERY BAD

THE LAST CHAPTER OF OUR TERRIBLE STORY IS HERE!

I can tell that you are all very excited about this.

--

Aziraphale was not very fond of being tied up in dark, cold places deep inside the earth.

He had never really contemplated this before, but standing with his back to a stone pillar, solidly wrapped with ropes, was giving him plenty of time to do so. It didn't help that Crowley was on the other side making inane noises like 'A BLOO BLOO BLOO' and generally being unhelpful. Like usual.

"Would you stop that?"

"I've got nothing better to do."

"You could think of a way to get us out of here."

"Oh, of course! I'll just make these ropes go away--except only I CAN'T BECAUSE THEY'RE IMMUNE."

"Well wile yourself out! You're the one who's supposed to be so good at those sly, snaky wiles! I'm the pure innocent one who doesn't know about things like deceit."

"What," said Crowley.

"FIGURE SOMETHING OUT!"

"You do it!"

"..." Was Aziraphale's response to this.

"That's what I thought."

"Well I don't hear YOU coming up with any bright ideas!"

"That's because...I...um."

"You what?"

"I don't know, okay!"

Aziraphale huffed irritably at him. Nothing was working!

On the other side of the pillar, Crowley abruptly ceased his noises.

Aziraphale was beginning to worry about their predicament.

There were some rasping sounds behind him, as of scales moving over stone.

"Crowley, what are you doing?"

Silence.

"Crowley?"

Still no answer.

"Oh dear," said Aziraphale.

There was a popping noise somewhere off to his left. Aziraphale had a sneaking suspicion as to what was going on. He had just known Crowley would think of something. He always did. Which was not always a good thing. But in this situation, nearly anything would be an improvement. Being tied up was not exactly an enjoyable pastime. Thus, Aziraphale was quite glad when Crowley finally walked into view, smirking.

"Um hi?"

"Yes?"

"It would be nice if you could untie me now."

"Would it really? I don't know if I can do nice..."

"You are incorrigible."

Crowley started untying the ropes. Aziraphale looked triumphant for a second. Then Crowley tightened them briefly, wiping the triumph completely off the angel's face.

"Erk," he said.

Crowley treated him to another smirk.

"Just untie me already!"

"I'm working on it"

"Work faster."

"I could just leave you here."

"And then you would die."

"Would I."

"Yes. Of loneliness and pain."

"Uh huh."

Finally untied after what seemed like an eternity, Aziraphale glared at Crowley with dignity and said, "Now what do you suggest, hmmm?"

"Er..." Crowley thought about this for a moment. "Yaks?"

"...what?"

"Yaks!"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"We'll disguise ourselves as yaks!"

Aziraphale stared in horror. "I don't even know what that is and it sounds dreadful."

"It's sort of like a cow. Only hairier."

"Fantastic."

"Well then what do you suggest? Walking out there as we are?"

"Fngnng."

"Exactly. Now put on your yak face like a good little angel and let's go."

Aziraphale stared at him hopelessly.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. It's not like I'm asking you to turn into one!"

"So I'm just supposed to pretend like I'm a yak? That's never going to work!"

"Well, come up with a better idea! I for one am not about to hang around here until they come back to kill us!" Crowley stared at him in frustration.

"Discorporate," Aziraphale huffed at him, though he sounded a bit uncertain of that.

Crowley recoiled in horror. "I like this one!"

"Yes, but it will hardly be the end of the world if you lose it."

"It will for me."

"Not permanently."

"You do it first then."

Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. "Get discorporated? My dear boy, I wasn't suggesting that we do it on purpose, merely stating that we will survive if they do manage to kill us."

"Well...you...er...shuttup."

"However, I would very much prefer not to have to deal with obtaining a new body, so I suggest we figure out a way to escape that does not involve" He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yaks."

"Well, we'd better make a decision soon because we've been discussing this for the past five minutes and eventually they're going to come back."

"They said they were going to leave us here until morning..."

"Well...maybe they lied."

"Don't be silly. Why should they do that?"

"Because they're bad."

"Yes but they already have us in their diabolical clutches. There's no reason for them to bother lying to us as well."

"It's not like you had a better option anyway!"

"...Fine." Aziraphale sighed in defeat. "We'll do the yaks. But I blame you if it doesn't work."

"It'll work!"

"It'd better." Aziraphale muttered as he put on the appearance of what he hoped was something suitably yak-ish.

Crowley followed suit. The two of them then crept out of the cave they had been tied in and down the tunnel a ways before they realized that two yaks creeping along were not exactly inconspicuous and attempted to amble nonchalantly instead. Which didn't work as nearly as well as they thought it did.

This became apparent when they entered another cave, which was filled with people, both of the large burly type they had already seen and normal sized and shaped ones, all of who promptly burst out laughing.

Crowley attempted to make a yak noise, sort of like "maaaaaaaaaughgngng?" This didn't seem to help.

"Oh bugger," he muttered, grabbed Aziraphale, and began to sprint in the opposite direction. And found a group of large and burly people blocking the way.

"SODDING HELL SHIT BUGGER FUCK!" He said. While still looking like a yak.

"Language my dear!" Aziraphale chastised, looking like an affronted yak. Which is a very interesting sight indeed.

"Be useful for once!"

"By doing what, praytell?"

"I don't know! I'm all out of ideas!" The men closed in around them. Again.

"Oh. Er." Aziraphale floundered about for an idea, but nothing came to mind. The men still seemed to be impervious to his powers.

"We could run some more?"

"Right." They took off running towards a gap in the burly men. They seemed to be getting rather good at that sort of thing.

Amazingly enough, both Crowley and Aziraphale made it through the gap before it closed, and instead of grabbing them, the burly men got each other instead.

Mildly surprised that something had actually worked for once, Aziraphale almost ran into a rather large wall but managed to avoid it just in time; for a lack of anything better to do, he and Crowley kept on running in the same direction.

This seemed to be working, as they soon left the men behind.

And got themselves hopelessly lost.

Which seemed to be another sort of thing they were getting rather good at.

Rather unfortunately.

They ran down various tunnels at random, until they reached a large cave, spectacularly and tastelessly decorated in bright pink and yellow.

Crowley halted immediately in sheer horror. Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, then noticed the room and said in delight, "Oh, it's lovely!"

Crowley stared at him incredulously.

"Yes, my dear?"

"HALT FOUL FIENDS!" Someone bellowed from behind a large jeweled chest.

"Oh for Chr--Dam--augh!" said Crowley.

Aziraphale looked hurt. "I thought I'd already told you I'm not a fiend. And I don't think either of us is particularly foul..."

"SILENCE!" said the man, somehow managing to imply the multiple exclamation points.

"Oh dear."

Crowley winced in pain. If there was one thing that he couldn't stand, it was bad grammar.

"You shall SUFFER for invading my CHAMBER!" the man shouted at them, flourishing something that looked rather like a flowerpot that had run into a peacock via a koi pond.

"Oh dear," said Aziraphale. Again.

They stared yakishly at the man for a few seconds. This seemed to throw him off a bit.

"WHY ARE THERE YAKS IN MY CHAMBER? MY CHAMBER OF DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM?"

Crowley stared blankly at him. "I thought we were foul fiends..."

"TALKING YAKS!" the man recoiled from them in horror.

"You just noticed?"

"DEVIL YAKS!"

"I told you before, I'm an AN-GEL" Aziraphale told him in the tones reserved for the very old and the very stupid. And sometimes Crowley when he was being particularly difficult.

"YAKS!" wailed the man, "YAKS SENT FROM THE DARK LORD HIMSELF!"

Aziraphale gave him a disgusted look. "Let's go," he muttered to Crowley.

"FIENDISH YAKS! YOU SHALL GO NOWHERE! YOU SHALL STAY HERE AND FACE THE WRATH OF THE SUPREME GRAND HUHA OF THE SOMETHINGOROTHER CULT!"

Crowley somehow managed a decent eyeroll even behind sunglasses while remaining vaguely yak-like.

"That's it," he muttered at Aziraphale. "This guy is going Down."

"I would have to agree with you."

"Right now. Let's get him. We just have to get rid of the whatever-it-is he's got."

Aziraphale cracked his nonexistent yak knuckles. "Fine."

It was surprisingly easy. The man was so terrified by the sight of two yaks, one with yellow eyes and sunglasses, charging at him he dropped the thing he was holding and ran away, straight into a bedpost.

Crowley started at him in amazement. He poked the man with a toe, producing no response.

"That was rather anti-climatic."

"Maybe there's a second grand huha?" Aziraphale said, rather hopefully. "I'm sure he would deserve a righteous smiting just as much as this one..."

"Probably not."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"So now what?"

"Good question."

"Right."

"Hmm."

They stood there awkwardly for a minute or two.

"Right then, let's go." said Crowley and began to saunter away.

"Cowardly fiends!" The man muttered from the floor, somehow managing to put an exclamation point into a mutter.

Crowley flipped him off.

Aziraphale gave him a vaguely disapproving look, and they walked out.

"What?"

Aziraphale ignored this.

"So..." Crowley looked around at the endless tunnels. "Now where do we go?"

"..." Aziraphale responded. "Pick a tunnel and trust in Divine Guidance?"

"Why the hell not."

"Right." Aziraphale chose a tunnel at random, and started down it.

It was long and dark and things were brushing against Crowley's legs and something was dripping on him. It was almost--but not exactly--like visiting Hastur. Except without the fire. Or the screams.

After approximately fifteen minutes of walking, Crowley became bored. He began to experiment with making yak noises, wondering as he did just what sort of noises yaks made. So he made them up instead. "balgkasdg!" he tried.

"Crowley, what are you doing?"

"fnfnfnnnnnnnnng?" he replied.

"Dear..."

"HARRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAA."

"I really wish you wouldn't."

"Googogogoggld?" he said.

"No."

"You're no fun."

"We're stuck in a cave with some sort of cult or something that wants to subject us to a horribly painful discorporation, and while their apparent leader seems to be somewhat less than impressive, there are still a number of large people who I doubt will want us to leave. You'll forgive me for not wanting to be grunted and moaned at."

Crowley waggled his eyebrows at him for no other reason than that it amused him.

Aziraphale gave a sigh of defeat and kept walking.

"We could always play a game, like...I Spy. In the dark."

"Very well, I spy something annoying."

"..." said Crowley. "Your fashion sense?"

"No."

"Tweed is not your friend."

"I really don't think this is the time to insult my fashion sense."

"When isn't it?

"Lots of times. Like now, for instance."

"And why is that?"

"Other than the fact that if we are heard talking we might be captured again and discorporated?"

"Er."

"Well then."

Crowley shut up. They continued walking for another ten minutes before he got bored again.

"Is this stupid tunnel ever going to end?"

"One hopes so."

And then, suddenly, it did. In a solid wall.

"..." they said together.

"Can I blow it up?" Crowley asked hopefully.

"With what, exactly?"

"Myself. What else do I need?"

"Oh yes, because it's not like we can't use our powers or anything like that. How silly of me!"

"They worked on that gun for you, they might work on the wall!"

"Be my guest, Crowley."

Nothing happened.

Aziraphale did a remarkable job of not doing the 'I told you so' dance.

Crowley scowled at him, then turned around and started stalking back out of the tunnel. As soon as he did, a door opened in the previously empty wall. There was another tunnel behind it, but there were lanterns hung up on the walls and a door and the end of it. A bright green door, Aziraphale noticed, but that really had nothing to do with anything.

"Well," he said. "I suppose there isn't anything better to do."

Crowley turned his stalk around and headed down the new tunnel. Aziraphale followed.

They reached the door, and opened it. And found something amazing! There was a room! With stuff in it! And that stuff was the truly amazing thing! It was... very pink. And girly. With a lot of flowers.

"Buh?" said Crowley in surprise.

"Oh. My." Was Aziraphale's response.

"This is very much not what I was expecting."

"And what, praytell, were you expecting, demon?" A vaguely familiar voice asked from the frilly pink depths of the room.

"Something more sinister? With more sharp pointy instruments of torture?"

"Why would I want that?"

"I have no idea."

A girl stepped into view.

"Oh my," said Aziraphale. "It's you!"

The girl smirked. "Of course it's me!"

"I should've known," Crowley muttered.

"Oh, yes. They always 'should have known'" Gulu said mockingly.

"This is ridiculous."

"This ridiculousness is going to cause your death, then."

Crowley found he didn't really have anything to say to that.

Aziraphale did. Which was something exciting!

"But we got your purse back!"

Well, not so exciting as much as logical.

"I do not make exceptions for demons just because they do a single decent thing in pursuit of their evils!"

"I am not a demon!" Said Aziraphale for perhaps the millionth time.

"You have the wings. You have the infernal powers. You cannot fool the magic."

"Augh!"

"Ah! You rue the discovery of your secret!"

Aziraphale's hands went all twitchy again.

Crowley took a discreet step away from him.

"And now I am going to destroy you once and for all!" Gulu whipped out a small pink rod, perhaps a foot long, and pointed at him threateningly.

"What's that?" Crowley asked, willing to try anything that would keep him in this plane of existence.

"The weapon I will use to destroy you!"

"...Oh." he considered this for a moment. "How?"

Gulu looked confused. "Why do you care?"

"These things interest me."

"Oh. Well." She looked at him, then at Aziraphale.

"So you're going to tell us?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking about it."

"Please?"

Gulu wavered for a second.

"No!" She decided finally. "I will not give in to your malicious wiles!"

"Damn!"

The girl attempted an evil laugh, but sounded more like a chicken on steroids. She didn't seem to mind this though, and would have done something with the rod had Aziraphale not tackled her. She squawked in surprise as the rod fell to the floor, rolling away beneath the bed. Crowley went for the rod as Aziraphale pinned Gulu to the floor, muttering angry but incomprehensible accusations.

"Ha!" he said triumphantly.

"Grmph!" Gulu said.

"Now will you tell us?" Crowley demanded, waving the rod around tentatively in case it decided to vaporize him.

Gulu squeaked, and shrank away from him as much as possible while still being sat on by an angry angel.

Crowley pointed it at her face, just to be cruel.

She screamed.

"Huh," he said.

"PUTITDOWNPUTITDOWN!"

Crowley brightened in a somewhat terrifying manner.

Gulu started gibbering mindlessly.

"Stop that, Crowley," snapped Aziraphale, "it's getting us nowhere. And making her approach mental instability."

"From which side?" Crowley muttered back at him, but nevertheless lowered the rod.

"So Ms. Gulu," Aziraphale said conversationally, "tell me what exactly that thing does and I won't let Crowley do anything with it. Probably."

"Itmakespeople'sinnardsboilandshootouttheirnostrils."

"Well now, that's certainly very inerest--for goodness sake, Crowley, put that thing down-no I don't mean wave it around threating in her face, I mean put it down--interesting. Except that wouldn't really effect us, seeing as we don't exactly have entrails."

"Doesn't matter."

"And why is that?"

Gulu looked terrified at them.

Aziraphale squished her a little bit more.

"I don't know!" She moaned. "It's just worked on demons before! I don't know how!"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley.

Crowley pointed the rod at her again.

"Fine! Fine!"

Just then, some people burst in the door.

"Why does this keep on happening?" Crowley demanded to no one in particular.

Gulu muttered something incomprehensible.

"What?"

"They came to rescue me?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes?"

"This is ridiculous."

A random person bowled into Aziraphale, knocking him off of Gulu.

"Augh!" he said in surprise.

"HAH!" Gulu yelled at the world in general.

"This is ridiculous!" Crowley said. Again. It seemed like it was getting to be a habit with him.

Aziraphale stared at the people in defeat. "Does it ever stop?" he asked hopelessly.

"Not while I have THIS!" Gulu shrieked, holding up a green and pink bracelet triumphantly.

"Oh lord."

"GET THEM!"

They ran. People ran after them. Unsurprisingly.

And then Crowley tripped. He went down like a rock. Aziraphale stopped and immediately fell over as well, making a noise similar to that of a yak, ironically enough. If Crowley had not been picked up and dragged back towards Gulu at that moment, he would have made note of the sound for future use.

"HA HA HA!" Laughed Gulu triumphantly.

It was at this point that Crowley realized that he was still holding the rod. For a lack of any better options, he pointed it at the nearest man.

Who promptly disappeared.

"Well, that's certainly useful!" he said happily and made a large sweeping motion at several large burly men.

Nothing happened.

"That is not useful at all!"

Gulu cackled evilly.

"Will you stop that!"

"NO!" She yelled. "Not when my EVIL PLAN is about to work!"

Crowley threw the rod at her, effectively knocking her out. "Ha!" he said triumphantly.

"Really my dear, must you be quite so enthusiastic? You nearly hit me with that thing bouncing off of her."

"Sorry," Crowley replied, picking it back up.

"So now what do we do with her?" Aziraphale prodded the prone girl primly with a toe.

"Get rid of everyone else?"

"You're the one with the rod, dear."

"It didn't work on them before."

"Try again."

So he did. And they all burst into flames.

"Well then." Crowley said, mildly surprised.

The burning people looked rather surprised as well.

Aziraphale stared at them. "Aren't they supposed to be screaming? Or something?"

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Crowley peered at them curiously.

One of the men waved experimentally. They didn't seem to be in any pain.

"This thing is useless."

"It knocked Gulu out..."

"I did that!"

"With the rod!"

The men on fire had started to dance for no apparent reason. It was not a very good dance.

"I really hope that the thingy made them do that."

"Why? It still doesn't get rid of them..."

"No one should dance like that of their own free will."

"It's not much worse than the way you dance."

"You should talk!"

"Me?" Aziraphale demanded indignantly. "My dancing is quite hip!"

"I cannot believe you actually said that."

"What? What's wrong with what I said?"

"Just...no. No."

Aziraphale gave him an irritated huff.

The men on fire suddenly realized that they could probably do something threatening even if they were on fire. They advanced menacingly towards Aziraphale and Crowley, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by their continued dancing.

Aziraphale eyed them with distaste. They didn't seem to notice.

"Can we just kill them already?"

"I don't know dear, that seems a little extreme..."

"They are attempting to dance menacingly at us. Nothing is too extreme!"

"Yes, but killing is so...tasteless. Can't we just drop them off a cliff?"

Crowley thought about it for a bit. He looked at Aziraphale, then back at the fiery dancers.

"Okay."

Aziraphale waved a hand, and they were all abruptly transported to the top of a very high cliff. With nice soft, deep snow banks at the bottom because it wouldn't do to kill someone by mistake. Crowley, never one to waste time, pushed them all over the side.

"There. Now what do you say we take this vacation to Bermuda?"

And lo, they did.

And it was good.

--

THE END.

PS: Actual conversation time again.

23:40 julie.: I BLAME YOU FOR ALL THE THINGS LIKE THAT!

23:41 k.rhyme: WHAT!

23:41 k.rhyme: NO!

23:41 k.rhyme: ...BUT ACTUALLY YES!


End file.
